by Anna Paige
Through all the chaos, I could barely hear a damn thing but when she coughed once and reached a hand out, I was at her side in an instant, clutching her hand to my chest. She looked up at me from behind the clear mask over her nose and mouth, the fear and pain in her eyes dimming as she fought to smile. A cough wracked her body, and she squeezed my hand, flinching in pain.
She was in no position to talk right then, so I spoke for us both. I looked into her red-rimmed eyes, fighting to hold my composure so she wouldn't see how fucking scared I was and told her in a wavering voice, "I love you, Alison. And I'm not ever letting you go. Not this night or any other. So, don't worry. You're going to be just fine because I won't allow it to be any other way."
I followed beside the moving stretcher and climbed into the ambulance with her, refusing to leave her and telling the EMTs they could check me out on the way.
I glanced outside the ambulance doors and saw Spencer coming out of the basement, coughing his fool head off and carrying what looked like two brown paper wrapped canvases toward the truck, a firefighter on his heels bitching him out. He looked up at me at the last second and nodded, indicating he'd be right behind us and climbed behind the wheel while the fireman stormed off in anger.
A moment later, the last of the medics climbed in, pulling the double doors closed behind her. Just like that, we were off, siren screaming into the night.
I kept Ali's hand in mine the whole way, even when I was being examined. A few prodding hands on my shoulder had reawakened the searing pain, but I gritted my teeth and ignored it, not taking my eyes off of her face. If she awakened for even a second, I wanted my face to be the first thing she saw, and for the reassuring pressure of my hand on hers to be the first thing she felt.
I barely blinked when a sling was pulled over my head, and the EMT slid my arm into it, rattling off information to her colleagues that I neither understood nor gave a damn about. If she wasn't talking about Ali, it just didn't fucking matter. They asked to start an IV, saying they could give me something for the pain that way, but I refused. They probably wouldn't have given me anything anyway, unless it was something to knock me out to get me out of the way.
Baiting me with pain meds wouldn't work, though.
The pain was keeping me focused, and I needed that.
I welcomed my pain and wished like fuck I could take on hers too.
AFTER WE ARRIVED at the hospital they whisked Ali away, and Spencer was the only thing that stood between me and a jail cell, not for the first time in our lives.
I paced the length of the waiting room, cursing under my breath and clenching my fists. Every time I did that, a shot of agony ran the length of my damaged arm, causing me to hiss in pain. But I kept doing it, I couldn't help myself.
Spencer sat by the door, at a table that was meant for consults, watching me with weary eyes. "You need to let them look at you, dumbass." He muttered for the tenth time.
I ignored him just as I had every other time. I was angry, not necessarily at him, but at the fact that I'd been refused entry to the section of the hospital where they'd taken Ali. A beefy orderly with a bored expression had stepped out to stop me when I tried to brush past the nurse at the door. I'd been reaching for his throat when Spencer snatched me back and slammed me into the wall so hard my head swam. He'd taken hold of my good arm and dragged me to the waiting room without a word, closing the door behind us.
He knew there was no point trying to talk me down, so he poured himself a cup of coffee that closely resembled burnt motor oil and sat at the table, effectively placing himself between me and the exit.
He was trying to keep me out of trouble, but I still wanted to choke the piss out of him for getting between Ali and me.
I paced a while longer and finally slumped into one of the chairs across from him, exhausted and wired at the same damn time. "We should call someone. I don't know how to get in touch with her father, but I need to call Talia. She'll kill me if I don't." I ran my hands through my hair and pulled out my phone, the smell of smoke heavy on my skin. "I was supposed to take care of our girl..."
"Already done." Spencer offered. "You brought Ali's phone with us to the house, it was still in your truck, so I made some calls on the way here. It's only been an hour, but I'm betting Talia will be here any minute."
My shoulders sagged with relief, another flash of pain ripping through me. "What about Ali's dad? I'm not sure how Ali will feel about it, but her mother probably needs a call too."
Spencer stood and plucked another foam cup from the counter, pouring me a shot of black syrup from the coffee pot. "All taken care of, Clay. I called Talia, she called Ali's mom while I called Jeffrey, Brant, and Gran."
Shit. I forgot about Gran. "Jesus, did she freak?"
"Nah. She cussed like a sailor for a few minutes, and I could hear her slamming the lids on some pots, probably for the dinner she was making us. She's on her way here. I made her promise to have someone else drive." He shook his head, frowning. "Her car is slow as hell, usually a good thing, but I wouldn't put it past her to snag someone else's ride." He paused and added wryly, "Again."
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, there was a commotion out in the hall, and I saw Talia looking up and down the corridor frantically, purse clutched to her chest like a life preserver. I sprang from my seat and snatched the waiting room door open, preparing to call out when she spotted me.
Her eyes widened as she approached, taking in the sling on my arm and my soot stained appearance. She pulled me in for a hug, careful to keep her hand off my injured shoulder. She was still crushing the shit out of my arm by default, but I gritted my teeth and held on tight. She shook and sniffed in my arms, muttering unintelligibly into my shirt.
When we finally broke apart, I stood aside and waited for her to enter the waiting room before pushing the door closed behind us. She walked over to Spencer, introducing herself and thanking him for calling, wrapping him in a brief hug before turning back to me. "What happened? Have you heard anything from the doctors yet? Where did they take her?" A sudden gasp of terror ripped through her and she looked at me with pleading eyes. "Oh, God, was she burned? Did they take her to the burn unit?"
I stepped over to her, and put a hand on her shoulder. "No, she's not burned. We haven't heard anything yet from the doctors, and we're not sure how the fire started." Leaning closer to get her to meet my eye, I told her, "All we can do right now is wait. It's fucking miserable and scary, but it's all we can do. Wait and hope." I walked her over to the table and pulled out a chair for her, grateful when she quietly took a seat. I settled in the chair beside her and said, "I suck at waiting, always have, but I know she's going to be okay. She has to be."
Talia nodded and wept a few silent tears; pulling out the tattered picture I'd last seen when she'd placed it under her pillow all those weeks ago. She stared at it for a moment and held it to her chest, closing her eyes. I wasn't sure if she was praying or remembering or a mixture of the two, but it seemed to calm her.
Damn, I envied her strength. She was a fighter. I'd known it from the start.
The biggest comfort I derived from knowing Talia was a fighter, was how much she and our girl were alike. Ali was a fighter, too.
AFTER WHAT FELT like a damn eternity, a middle-aged man with kind eyes and wrinkled scrubs came out to talk to us. When he asked who the next of kin was, Talia and I both stood, linking arms as Spencer rose beside us. "We're all her family," I told him. "How is she?"
He pulled the surgical cap from his head and blew out a breath, doing that goddamn hesitation thing I hated so much. I was on the verge of snapping at him when Talia said, "Spit it out, will ya? We're freaking out here." She said it in an exasperated way that somehow still sounded civil. I'd have to get her to teach me that.
He looked up at her and smiled, not offended in the least. "Sorry, lack of sleep." He motioned for us to sit and slipped into the empty chair. "Alison inhaled a lot of smoke. It's taking us a while to get her O2 saturation back
up, but she is improving. We've intubated her to get the oxygen to her more efficiently and given her medication for pain. Her throat is inflamed, and she's got a fractured right ankle, as well as a hairline fracture of the foot on the same side." He looked down at the chart in his hands, flipping pages. "Other than a few bumps and bruises, that's it. Treating the smoke inhalation is priority number one right now, everything else is minor."
Talia spoke first. "You said she was intubated, but she's able to breathe on her own, right?"
My heart fucking stopped at the thought that intubation might be the same as being on a ventilator.
He smiled reassuringly, and I pulled in a ragged breath, relieved by his demeanor. "She's breathing on her own but she needs a little help, that's all. She's been sedated for now. We've done everything necessary to get a baseline measurement on her situation and, once her stats improve a bit more, we'll check everything again just to be sure and then the tube can come out." He patted Talia's hand and stood. "We may be able to remove it as soon as the morning, but that's all up to Alison."
I stood, reaching to shake his hand. Thanking him, I asked, "Can I see her?"
"Sure, but only for a minute or two and let's keep it one person at a time, okay?"
We all agreed and, after a nod from Talia, I followed him out.
I STOOD HELPLESSLY by her bedside, listening to the hiss of the machines as I watched her chest rise and fall. There were tubes and gadgets everywhere, measuring and dripping and beeping out a mournful song. There were no actual rooms in the ICU, just segments of open space arranged in a circle around the nurse's station and partitioned off with curtains. I supposed it was safer that way, making it easy for the staff to look in on the patients, but I would have given anything for a private moment just then.
A shadow crossed the foot of the bed, bringing my head up as I hastily swiped at my damp cheeks. The man was nearly my height with a slightly thinner build and thick head of gray-streaked mahogany hair. He glanced at me and then locked his gaze on the woman in the bed, the woman I loved more than anything else on earth.
His daughter.
He crept closer, eyes never leaving her face as he took silent inventory of her condition. He reached for her hand with one of his, extending the other across the bed toward me. "Since you look like I feel, I'm gonna venture a guess and say you're the boyfriend." His voice was nearly as deep as mine, with a steady strength that I admired.
I gave his hand a firm shake and nodded though I knew he didn't see. "Yes, sir. I am." I looked down at the woman between us, the corners of my mouth curling into a hopeful smile. "That is until she agrees to have me as her husband."
He didn't look up, gave no indication of surprise though I'd shocked the shit out of myself. What was even more shocking was that I meant it. Every damn word. And I wasn't the least bit afraid.
Jeffrey Walker, hopefully my future father-in-law, just nodded and said. "It's nice to finally meet you, son."
Son.
He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world.
WE STEPPED OUT a few minutes later, knowing Talia was anxious for her turn. Walking back to the waiting room, we passed by the nurses station, and I whispered, "I can't believe they let you back here. We had to promise to keep it one at a time."
Jeffrey snorted and didn't bother whispering when he said, "I didn't promise 'em shit. I'd like to see someone try to keep me out."
Yep, there's that family resemblance.
We didn't even make it to the waiting room before Talia scurried past, placing a quick peck on Jeffrey's cheek and heading to the ICU. He just smiled as he turned to watch her leave. "That girl must think a lot of you. I would have bet good money she'd be the first back there to see Ali."
I smiled in her wake, knowing he was right. "Well, I made sure I had permission before I went. I've been roughed up enough for one night without having to take her on."
He chuckled and slapped my good shoulder. "Yeah, best to hang onto that one good arm if you can. I think my little girl might find some comfort in it when this is all over. Let's grab a cup of coffee while you fill me in."
I ducked my head into the waiting room to ask Spencer to join us, but the room was empty. I checked my phone and discovered he'd sent a text. "Going out front to wait for Gran. She'll be here soon, and I don't want her terrorizing the staff looking for us."
I shook my head and sent him a reply wishing him luck, then headed to the cafeteria.
AFTER FINDING THE cafeteria and procuring a decent cup of coffee from the bored cashier, Jeffrey and I sat at one of the booths and I told him everything the doctor said. After that, he asked about the fire, why Ali was there, how it started. I explained why she'd gone back to the house, but the rest was still a mystery.
He studied me thoughtfully for a while, sipping his coffee. Placing the nearly empty cup on the table between us, he pointed to my shoulder. "How'd that happen?"
"I had to bust through the back door to get to her." I avoided his penetrating stare and attempted to shrug it off with my uninjured arm, pain lighting through the other one though I hadn't moved it.
"Must have been one damn strong door to do that. Or one damn determined man."
I remembered the pop that had accompanied my injury, wincing. "It was a good dose of both. The door was oak, solid and reinforced." I sighed, gingerly touching my shoulder "Built it myself out of an antique farm table, and I built it to last."
He pursed his mouth in a solemn smile. "From the look on your face, I'm guessing that thing meant a lot to you." I nodded. "How many times did you hit it after you did that to your shoulder?"
I thought back and couldn't recall. "I'm not really sure. I just kept going until it gave way."
"How bad did they say the injury is? Anything broken? Dislocated?"
"No idea, I haven't had it checked yet. I'll let them look at it in the morning."
He narrowed his eyes. "You'll let them look at it right damn now, son, or you and I are going to have a problem."
I bristled, not liking his tone one bit. "I'm not letting them touch me until I know Ali is okay. It'll wait."
"And if waiting causes irreparable damage? Then what? You plan to carry my daughter over the threshold with one arm?"
"Carried her out of a burning house with one arm, didn't I?" I growled.
He sat back and glared at me a minute before breaking into a smile. Chuckling, he said, "Damn if the two of you aren't perfect for each other. She's a stubborn one, too." He held up a finger, sobering, "But I know she'll give me hell if I don't look after you while she can't. So, as soon as she peeks one eye open, you're getting checked out, or you're going to have to fight me one-handed. And, son, I fight dirty."
Much as I tried to resist, the fatherly lecture made me smile.
ALI'S MOTHER CALLED Talia just before midnight to say she and Holden were two hours out. I didn't ask for the particulars, but I gleaned from Talia's side of the conversation that they had been out of town. It was also apparent that Talia wasn't particularly fond of the woman, given the near constant eye rolls and general air of exasperation while they spoke.
I hoped for Ali's sake that the woman would step up and act like the mother she deserved, even if only for one night.
And I'd deal with Holden later.
Ali was my priority, now and always. The rest be damned.
Between Spencer and I, we managed to charm the nurses into letting us all take turns at Ali's bedside. Brant texted to say his flight was delayed, but he'd be there by morning if he had to rent a damn helicopter and figure out how to fly it himself.
Brilliant as he was, there was a good chance he could do it.
Gran showed up mid-way through the night, scowling and blaming Vanessa for her tardiness. Apparently, Vanessa hadn't been able to drop everything to drive her right away, causing her and Gran to have words. From the weary, defeated look on my aunt's face, it had been a long damn ride.
I hugged them both and gave t
hem the run-down on Ali's condition, pausing to introduce them to Jeffrey when he stepped back into the waiting room. He greeted them warmly and signaled to me, letting me know it was my turn to sit with her. Gran still looked distraught despite being told that Ali's oxygen levels were improving, so I told her to go on ahead. She and Vanessa had come a long way, and I wasn't going to make them wait.
When Gran returned a few minutes later, Vanessa silently stood and walked out of the room, Gran pointedly not looking at her. I walked over and put my good arm around Gran, squeezing reassuringly as I steered her toward the table where Spencer and Jeffrey sat quietly talking. I kissed her forehead and told her, "You need to quit snapping at Vanessa. She was probably on duty tonight and had to find a replacement. It's not her fault. Okay?"
Gran huffed indignantly and pouted, saying nothing.
I somehow resisted the urge to strangle her. "I'm not asking, Gran. I'm telling you. I don't need this shit tonight. No one here does. We're here for Ali, and she's what's important. So suck it the hell up or go home. I won't have your dramatic streak upsetting Ali." I stood and walked out of the room, unwilling to put up with her childish behavior a moment longer. It was the first time I could ever recall giving Gran an ultimatum.
I needed to see Ali, needed the calming affect her presence had on me.
I stepped through the doors of the ICU, garnering a pointed stare from the nurse. She didn't say anything, but I knew we were on thin ice as it was and having two visitors in the room was pressing our luck. I smiled my most charming smile and told her we were swapping out not doubling up.